


Friends in High Places

by timeladyofletters



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Homophobia, Homophobic Language, Lesbian Character, Male-Female Friendship, Reader-Insert, Sam Winchester at Stanford, lesbian reader, non-romantic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:58:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679405
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeladyofletters/pseuds/timeladyofletters
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You get kicked out by your roommate on the first day of university when you tell her about your sexuality. Luckily, your old friend Sam Winchester is there you pick you back up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Friends in High Places

You were trying your hardest not to cry as you lugged all of your belongings away from your dorm building. The first week at Stanford University was supposed to be an adventure. It was supposed to be an escape to a place where hate and discrimination were at a minimum. It was supposed to be freedom.

 _Maybe that place doesn’t exist,_ you thought to yourself as you made your way through the California heat. Without an extra hand to pull your hair away from your sweaty neck, you decided to take a rest stop on a bench in the middle of the campus. As you sat, you busied your mind, trying to figure out your next move.

_Should I find a hotel for the night? Should I go to the Student Housing Office and launch a complaint? Should I call my--_

No. There was no way that you were going to call your parents. They were no better than your roommate. Or, technically, ex-roommate.

You were about to give up and call the bench your new home when you heard a familiar voice calling your name.

“Y/N? Y/N Y/L/N, is that you?”

You looked up to see a young man walking towards you. His hair was longer, his frame more muscular, and he seemed to be much taller than you; but the eyes and smile were the same.

“Oh my god, Sam?!” you gasped, jumping up and into the arms of your friend. His embrace was warm and welcoming. It was the first hug you’d had in a long, long time.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Sam Winchester was the new kid at your high school a little less than two years ago. Even though he only stayed for a month, you and him forged a deep bond. The two of you faced bullies and strict parents together, and though you lost touch, you still considered him to be the best friend you ever had.

“I can’t believe you’re here!” you exclaimed, taking a step back to take in his changed appearance. 

“Same here,” he agreed, and you noted how much deeper both his voice and his dimples were. “I should have known though, you always talked about how Stanford was your dream school.”

You were flattered by the fact that he remembered that about you. “I’m so happy you’re here. I’ve missed you,” you told him. 

“I’ve missed you too, Y/N,” he said sincerely before he noticed the luggage beside you. “Oh, do you need help with your bags? Where’s your dorm?”

“Uh, well, I was supposed to be staying back there somewhere,” you motioned down the sidewalk where you came from, “but it didn’t work out.”

Sam knitted his eyebrows and tilted his head in a confused gesture that urged you to explain further.

“My roommate sort of...kicked me out,” you admitted.

Sam looked taken aback by your answer. “Wait, is that allowed? Can she do that?”

“Well, no,” you shrugged, “but she was really against sharing a room with me and I just couldn’t stay with someone like that.”

“I get it,” Sam nodded, agreeing with your decision. “Listen, if you need anything at all, don’t hesitate okay?”

You looked down to the luggage at your feet and thanked your lucky stars for the one person who wasn’t treating you like you like you had a contagious disease. “Could you maybe help me get my stuff to the Student Housing Office? Hopefully it isn’t too late for me to find an empty room.”

Instead of picking up your bags, Sam stopped and his whole face lit up, as if he just had a light bulb moment.

“Or, my roommate isn’t even staying in my room because he’s moving in with his girlfriend. Why don’t you just take his place instead?” he suggested.

* * *

 

His offer completely caught you off guard. “What? No, its okay. Don’t worry about it.”

“Y/N come on,” Sam persisted. “How great would it be if we lived together? Plus, this way neither of us would be stuck with another crappy roommate.”

You had to admit, he had a good point. But the last thing you wanted to do was chase your one friend away with your personal life.

“I don’t wanna, you know, intrude on your bachelor pad or whatever guys call it,” you joked, feeling your defenses weakening.

“My what?” Sam laughed. “No, not at all! Trust me, all I’m gonna be doing in that room is studying, and maybe a bit of sleeping. Seriously, it won't be a problem at all.”

You smiled and shook your head, unable to deny his solid logic. Plus, the idea of rooming with your high school bestie was too appealing to pass up.

“Well don’t you at least want to know why my roommate kicked me out before you make this huge leap into commitment?” you offered, giving him one last opportunity to claim his room to himself.

“Why, is it a deal-breaker? Are you an axe murderer or something?” Sam teased playfully.

“No, don’t be silly,” you scoffed before you leaned closer to him and lowered your voice to a whisper. “But I do turn into a werewolf whenever there’s a full moon out, and I’d rather not accidentally maul you to death one night. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get bloodstains out of linens?”

Sam’s eyes grew wide as you stared up at him grimly. You could have sworn that he believed you for a second before he let out a shaky breath and laughed off your joke.

“Haha, very funny,” Sam lightly poked at your sides until your serious expression broke into a smile. “Y/N, you know you can trust me, right? I’m your friend. I’d never judge you.”

You let out a sigh as you figured that there was no use in skirting around the topic anymore. “Remember that rumor about me back in high school?” you hinted cautiously. “Well, its true.”

“I think you need to be a little more specific, Y/N. It was high school. Everyone there had at least 3 different rumors attached to their names.”

“The one about me...being a lesbian,” you said nervously. “Wait, what other rumo-”

“I know” he smiled down at you before picking up your bags and motioning for you to follow him to his dorm. His response took you by surprise, and you had to speed walk to catch up with him.

“You know?” you gasped, slightly out of breath. “How?”

Sam opened the door and held it open for you, very gentleman-like, before answering your question. “You were my best friend Y/N, of course I knew,” he said simply. “Plus, you were the only girl in our town who wasn’t trying to use me to get close to my brother.”

The two of you chuckled as you climbed the stairs to your new room on the second floor. The room was nothing special - a small space that was just big enough for two. The beds were on opposite sides against the walls, and each side had a small closet, desk and bedside table. To most people, it was nothing special; but to you and Sam, it was home.

Once Sam had placed your bags on your bed, you cleared your throat to get his attention and asked, “Speaking of your family, how were they when you broke the news that you were moving to Stanford?” you began to unpack and your clothes as you spoke. “Last time I saw you, you were telling me about how much you hated being moved all over the place and how you needed to be free and spread your wings and all that.”

“I didn’t say it like that,” Sam scoffed at the dramatic retelling of your last encounter.

He took three steps over to your closet and pulled out some hangers for you to put your shirts on, then he began to help you pack them away. You smiled to yourself at how easy it was for the two of you to settle back into the groove of things. From the moment you met Sam back in high school up till today, your friendship had been effortless.

“We had a huge fight when my dad found out I wanted to come here,” Sam explained when he was done with the closet. Then he took a seat on your bed before continuing. “He told me to leave and never come back. My brother pretty much took his side. I haven’t talked to them since.”

You settled down next to him, bracing back against the wall so that your feet barely dangled off the bed.

“Yeah, my family kicked me out when I came out to them, too,” you sighed, laying your head against his arm. His shoulder was too high up for you to reach. “Look at us, the nerd and the lesbian.”

“Shunned by the world, with no one else but each other,” Sam chimed in.

You laughed, appreciating how on-board Sam was with your theatrics. “We’re like a John Hughes movie, but without the petty crime and random musical numbers.”

“Actually,” said Sam, “I think I can fix that.”

* * *

 

“Look at you Mr. Wannabe Lawyer, breaking the law on his first day of school,” you teased Sam as the two of you walked through the crowded bar and ordered some drinks.

As it turns out, Sam had a fake I.D., and not just any fake I.D. - it was a  _good_ one. You inspected every inch of it when he first showed it to you, and you couldn’t find one flaw. You wanted to ask him how he got it, but you figured that was some information that you didn’t need to know. Instead, you stood quietly by his side as he handed the card to the bar bouncer, who let you in with your friend without even bothering to ask you your age.

“Well it’s like my dad used to say,” Sam said after a pair of beers were delivered to your table. “It’s only illegal if you get caught.”

“Well that’s one thing your dad and I can agree on!” you clinked your beer bottles together in celebration.

The two of you spent the next hour talking, laughing, and catching up. You filled him in about high school after he left, and he told you stories about the four schools he went to afterwards. You could tell that he was glossing over all the details about what his dad did for a living, but Sam had always been secretive about his family, so you let it slide.

Even though you were only a group of two, you were the loudest table in the bar with your endless laughter; at each others jokes and at the drunk karaoke singers. You and Sam were having such a good time, it was almost as if no time had passed.

While you were finishing your first beer, you noticed a pretty redheaded girl on the other side of the bar. You spent the next few minutes sneaking glances at her, and it wasn’t long before she began to watch you as well.

“You should go talk to her,” Sam casually suggested.

“Who? W-what?” you stuttered, looking away from the girl and focusing intently on the empty bottle in your hands.

“Come on, Y/N! If you go talk to her, I will get up there and sing any song of your choice,” he vowed, pointing to the stage where a drunk guy was singing a rendition of “Baby Got Back.”

That deal was too good to pass up, so you plucked Sam’s beer from his hand and chugged it, despite his protests. Then you put on your big girl panties (metaphorically, of course) and started towards the girl, who was now smiling at you from her seat across the room. Before you could get to her, however, a guy in a jacket with some sort of frat insignia stepped in front of you.

“Hey there, gorgeous,” he slurred. Then he didn’t wait for you to return the greeting before he continued speaking. “You’re a freshman, right? You need someone to show you around?”

The guy seemed to be at least a year older than you, and much taller. He was well built, with classically handsome features - light hair, dark eyes, and a smile that told you that he knew exactly how good looking he was. You had to admit, he was hot. What? You’re a lesbian, not blind.

“No thanks,” you declined politely. “I found my way around campus pretty quickly.”

“Well then maybe you need someone to show you a good time,” he hinted as his proceeded to step closer to you and slip and arm around your waist. Suddenly, this guy wasn’t so hot anymore. “Come on baby, let me buy you a drink. Or would you rather just head back to my place?”

You tried to pry his hands off you, but he had an iron grip. “No, stop. Get your hands off me, it’s not gonna happen.” He didn’t seem to care, so you looked around for Sam, but you couldn’t see him past the hoards of people in the bar.

He leaned his face closer to yours so that his beer breath fanned your face. “What, are you into chicks or something?” he laughed, as if the idea was preposterous.

You were insulted by his tone, so you squared your shoulders, lifted your chin and stared straight at him. You refused to be ashamed. “Yes, actually, I am. So leave me alone.”

Before the guy could even react, Sam finally appeared and stepped between the two of you.

“Is there a problem here?” he asked you as he stared the guy down.

“No, it’s okay Sam, we’re done here,” you told him. Then you took his hand and pulled him along with you to leave, the guy having effectively ruining your night.

But of course, frat-boy wasn’t done yet, because he then called out, “Don’t even bother man, this dyke isn’t gonna put out for you.”

You and Sam both turned around and asked “excuse me?” in unison.

“You heard me,” he spat out angrily. “Don’t waste your time on this bitch. I already made the mistake of touching her, now I gotta go wash the gay off of me.”

Sam smiled humorlessly, glanced at you, and then punched the guy in the face before anyone could get another word out. When frat-boy landed on the floor, he looked around at the by-standing bar patrons and seemed to have no idea what his next move should be.

Then Sam yanked him up off the floor by his shirt and jabbed a finger to his chest. “You say sorry to her, right now, then leave. And if I ever see you near her again, I’ll actually  _try_ to kick your ass.”

After the guy mumbled a terrified apology and raced off to the bathroom, you and Sam left.

* * *

 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Sam as the two of you walked back to campus.

“I’m fine,” you told him. “I’m used to it.”

Sam pulled you to a halt and placed his hands on your shoulders, peering down into your eyes. “That’s the problem, Y/N, you shouldn’t be used to it. It shouldn’t be happening at all.”

“Yeah well, that’s the world we live in,” you shook your head, willing yourself not to cry. “People don’t like different.”

Seeing how misty your eyes were becoming, Sam gathered you in his arms and held you to him. “You’re not different,” he murmured. “You’re  _you_. You’re an amazing person, Y/N, and you don’t deserve all this crap.”

“Neither do you, Sam,” you sniffled.

Sam didn’t respond to your comment. Instead the two of you held onto each other in a comfortable silence. After a while, Sam planted a kiss on the top of your head and said, “I promise you, no one’s ever gonna treat you like that again, okay? Not while I’m around. I got your back, Y/N.”

“Thank you, Sam,” you smiled. You reached up on your toes and returned a kiss to his cheek. Then you linked arms with him as the two of you continued the journey home. “And for the record, I got yours too.”


End file.
